Last Gem of Scorpio
by Rb1403
Summary: Catwoman has married the Batman, but what does that really mean for her? As she searches for the last gem of Scorpio, the only jewel missing from her collection, she finds an unexpected friendship that blossoms for a night. *It's short, more of a short scene than a full story because I'm too busy/lazy to make it an entire story.*


There's a girl with her window open.  
In the dark she gives refuge to the moths.  
In the wind her whispers are lost in the trees.

Perched upon a precarious parapet, she reminds me of me. And from across the courtyard I follow her gaze into the parting clouds, only to duck back into the shadows instinctively. Not unlike a wounded cat afraid of the dangers that came with a full moon. For the briefest of moments I feel an illogical tang of sadness that threatens to overwhelm.

Why am I sad? This _is _me, is it not? Perhaps I had hoped to be different? But then again it shows that maybe nothing has really changed. I'm still the same old me, and Bruce is still Bruce. For the sort of lives I live, this certainty in my own identity brings a disproportionate sense of comfort.

I look back to see the mother in the open window, demanding the girl to climb back up this very instant. Mrs. Rosenblum of RegisTech I presume. From my angle, it's easy to make out her words, "Lesath, go to sleep. You have school tomorrow."

The girl would be 9-year-old little miss Rosenblum I presume. I cannot believe this. She actually named her daughter after… Well played Mrs. Rosenblum.

Lesath has her back to me, but she seems to quietly comply for she scales the water-pipe and back into her room through the open window. Mrs. Rosenblum quickly closes the window and drags the girl to the toilet despite repeated objections. There's a pronounced relief in her stride as she walks out the room.

I'm here for the last gem of Scorpio. The only one missing from my collection. 6 years I've spent socuring the globe. By now I should have circumvented the laser grid they installed last week. I should be in the process of depressurizing the vault room as of this moment. Perhaps even already across the rooftop and past the Crow security stationed in the Southern quarter. What am I even doing watching my mark put her daughter to sleep?

Yet somehow against my better judgement, I take a detour. Crossing the courtyard to climb onto the parapet, I jump silently from the parapet to her window when I am certain the coast is clear. Only to find her already staring from within her bedroom window by the time I've climbed onto the window ledge. She doesn't seem particularly surprised, nor does she seem particularly afraid at my sudden appearance. Makes me wonder what she'd do if Bruce showed up in his cowl unannounced. Actually, she'd probably be ecstatic. He has a way with kids.

More curious than anything, Lesath scratches the glass with her cleanly trimmed nails. A little bemused by her antics, I scratch back uncharacteristically. The last missing gem of Scorpio can wait. My collection can remain incomplete for a while longer.

Satisfied with my response, she opens the window and crawls out onto the ledge to crouch next to me. She looks like me with her dimpled smile, but also like Bruce with his boyish blue eyes. So much so that when she reaches for my face I forget to flinch.

"Cat-woman?" She articulates it slowly and carefully. Only now do I notice hearing aids tucked behind the pinks folds of her small ears. "Catwoman." She says once more, this time with confidence. "Cat."

"Yeah. Catwoman." I purr almost unconsciously, half hoping she feels the vibrations through her hand. Lesath giggles and covers her mouth in alarm, casting a quick glance at the door. I too, hold my breath in silent interim. The door remains partially closed, a small piece of wood keeping it from closing.

I distinctly remember that Timothy once told me they have enhanced sensory facilities to compensate. And that soft vibrations can be soothing and familiar. In fact Bruce had each and every single one of his children volunteer at a community center for deaf children, it was how they practiced sign language. I can't even imagine how happy Lesath would be if the whole family was here talking to her in sign language.

She leans forward to let loose a long exaggerated sigh of relief, peeking to see if it makes me smile. Of course I do. She's too cute for me not to like. Like Cassandra, she's quiet, reserved, and always wanting to please. I wish I could tell Cassandra that she has nothing to prove, but until I become family it will not be my place to say it.

Lesath begins to say something but then decides against it, choosing to pop back into her room. I trust her not to call her parents on me, so I wait patiently in the gentle spring breeze. Searching for the moon that has once again found refuge behind the clouds.

She excitedly crawls out again, this time with a pencil and a sketch book. She sits crossed-legged as she flips through the many drawings that inhabit the pages. I catch a brief glimpse of the bat signal. There in the pages with the moon and the clouds and the GCPD blimp.

She finds a blank page and writes in beautiful handwriting, _I like you. I think you're very pretty. _Then she adds a little _and_ between the two sentences to distinguish between liking me for my looks and liking me for being me. She offers me the sketchbook for me to respond. I hesitate because writing would be to leave behind incriminating evidence. In the end I take it anyway, careful to match her eloquent handwriting.

I take solace in the fact that Jason would most definitely side with me. Behind his hard demeanor and Kevlar polymer mask is a boy that would do anything to bring joy for children. He'd probably leave his knife if he thought it would make Lesath happy. Unfortunately, or fortunately, he's not here right now. It's just me and my lacking lexicon.

The only thing I can think of writing is, _No way! I think you are very pretty. And also very brave_. She takes the book and starts trembling. I rush to apologize in hushed tones, thinking I must have offended her in some way but then she hugs me out of joy.

She then quickly regains composure and scribbles in still-perfect handwriting, _I asked my mom for a cat called Carrots. She said she'd get me one next year. She's going to be my best friend. _She holds her book up proudly and only hands me the book once assured that I had finished reading her note.

She gives me an idea. First I need to find a more comfortable position. Then with my legs crossed, I begin to free-hand sketch Isis for her. In my mind a had a picture little baby Isis when I first rescued her from the streets. Unfortunately, I am no Damian and the sketch ends up looking like any average cat. If only Damian were here. He'd draw her the best cat with his artistic talent, though he'd probably draw all his animal associates.

"I love cats too! But my husband, he's more of a bat guy_."_ I draw a big muscular bat beside the little tabby cat. Definitely not the most anatomically correct bat. In hindsight, am I even a Gothamite if I can't even draw a bat?

She widens her eyes in surprise, quickly asking for her book back. She's so bursting with excitement she isn't even able to wait for the book. "You… You and Batman?" She makes a quick heart with her hand and signs in ASL, _I'm so excited_!

I have to stifle a laugh before I can reply. "You're excited? Me too!" Then with the slyest grin I can muster, "But it's our little secret okay?"

She might not hear everything but she picks up on other cues quickly. Holding her book with her left hand, she taps her lips twice with her right thumb to sign _secret. _She then pulls an imaginary zipper across her lips.

I nod and she shakes her head with a coy, disappointed smile. She writes on her book, _not secure enough, _and proceeds to mime throwing the keys away after locking her mouth. Ha. Both cute and clever.

She flips through the book shows me a cutout of Batman. It's from the first Darkseid invasion. I recognize the photo it must have been from. The Daily Planet article titled, _the super seven_. I loved it. He hated it. He said that seven is misrepresentative of the number of members the Justice League actually has. I know better.

She then thumbs through the entire scrapbook section to find a blurry picture of me. Flipping between the two pages, she takes a pencil from her bedside drawer and annotates _BatCat _beneath my photo. Her beaming smile widens as an idea pops into her mind.

Never in a million years would I have expected her to unfold a full poster size Grayson in his skin-tight Nightwing suit and ask with a sheepish grin, "You know him?" Idol of even 9-year-olds. Now that's funny. I'm definitely telling him when I get home.

"Yup.", and in my best sports-night-announcer-whisper I add, "He's the first-born son of the mighty Bat. Descendent of the Bat-tribe."

Lesath widens her eyes in disbelief. Well, no harm in spreading disinformation. Quickly, she shows me the female section of her scrapbook. She waits eagerly as I go through each photo, "Batgirl, techno-warrior-princess of Gotham. Uh… Spoiler, purple bundle of fight. Ca–"

I almost said Cassandra. What does she even go by? Right. "–Orphan, ninja badass. Batwoman, redhead." Bruce hardly tells me enough about them. I swear the girls are just more independent. I feel like the boys are always getting in to trouble.

Lesath nudges me back into the present. I look down and she just leans right into me with her head nestled against my shoulder. No permission needed. She says in a practiced manner, "I love you, cat." The way she says it makes me choke on my words.

I swallow and I whisper back, "I love you too, bat." She doesn't hear it. Anyway, I try not to think as I stroke her black silky hair that ran down her shoulders. I've never imagined myself raising a child, nor have I really considered having one with Bruce. But maybe, just maybe… I wouldn't be such a bad mother.

As I feel Lesath quietly drifting into unconsciousness, I tell her my story.

_Once upon a time there was a little stray cat. She lived in the alleys and stole for a living. She fell in love with a boy. Oh, he was a beautiful boy. Eyes so blue that the cat walked into the water forgetting she couldn't swim._

_She loved him so much it scared her. So she bit and she scratched and she ran away. The boy too, was in love with her. He loved him more than she loved her. And that's the problem with love, one person loves harder._

I fight tears as repressed guilt surges.

_He was hurt and he was broken but he never gave up. The cat was dumb, but in the end it was okay because cats can be dumb sometimes. It's okay because the cat found the boy and together they found love again._

_Home was once such a foreign concept for the stray alley cat. Not anymore. After all, home is where the heart is. And the cat had found it's heart. They… They had many children. Each of them so brave and wonderful in their own ways. And the family lived happily ever after._

It's a short story but she's asleep by the time I finish.

She stirs when I carry her to bed. Her eyes peer curiously at me from behind their lids, as if they were asking who I was. She turns and stuffs her face into her fluffed up pillow after I lie her down faceup. From within the pillow drifts a muffled farewell, "Goodnight carrots." Is that a quiet sniffle? A silent sob? Maybe that was just my imagination.

I reply fondly with an _adieu_ _miss Rosenblum _under my breath. I want to stay sitting on the edge of her bed until she's firmly asleep. For a second I wonder if I've always been this protective with Holly, with Maggie. I can't possibly… No. I don't know. I should leave.

Leaning in to kiss her goodbye I feel the warmth radiating from her neck. So vulnerable under the amber glow of the bedside lamp. So similar, yet different. My kiss on her neck lingers for a second too long, making her shift slightly to one side. And once again I find myself saying, _adieu miss Rosenblum_, as I turn off her bedside lamp.

Until next time, may our paths cross once again. I know who I am now. I'm still the same old Selina Kyle. Same but different. Better. Bruce saw the good in me even when I couldn't see the good in myself, and that's who I will try to be. The last gem of Scorpio shall stay here with her rightful owner, Lesath.

If I'm being honest, there was no stealing the jewel from the moment her mother spoke her name. Lesath, or upsilon scorpii. A blue giant that marks the stinger of Scorpio. Who am I to take away her birthstone? My collection can remain incomplete.

Come what may, I shall embrace it with grace and elegance. Out the window I go, over the parapet and across the courtyard. Against the coastal winds I run back towards Wayne manor. Home.


End file.
